


Welcome to the Show

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, F/M, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: After seeing The Captain perform during a friend’s bachelorette party, Emma is caught of guard when she discovers the hot stripper she’s been fantasizing over ever since that night is also one of the welders at her father’s factory.





	Welcome to the Show

**Author's Note:**

> This fic idea came about during the summer when @searchingwardrobes posted the concept of a Flashdance AU for the CS Rom Com, but with the roles reversed so Killian would be the exotic dancer/welder. Originally, this was going to follow the movie at bit more, and be one of my submissions for @cscocktoberfest but… when do things ever really go as planned??
> 
> Much love to @artistic-writer for the use of her stripper!Killian manips in my art. Also, a big thank you to @ilovemesomekillianjones for being a fantastic beta, and to Krystal and Salem for taking a gander at it as well.
> 
> Finally, for those who might be interested, there is an Adam Lambert song of the same name as this fic. You might to to cue it up on YouTube to have playing during a certain section between Emma and Killian. You’ll know it when you get there ;o)

* * *

“I can’t believe you all are making me do this!” Belle exclaimed. Her hands covered her beet red expression in the face of the male dancer’s _assets_ on the stage right in front of her.

“It wouldn’t be a proper bachelorette party without some beefcake to remind you of all the potential conquests you’re giving up,” Lily retorted. Her and Tink’s eyes weren’t focused on the bride-to-be though, they were currently devouring the tanned and oiled specimen taking his final strut around the stage to collect tips from the thirsty crowd.

“How did you hear about this place, Ems?” Tink inquired.

Emma sipped her rum and coke, trying to seem more calm, cool, and collected than she felt. “Google,” she replied over the cheers and cat calls following the male dancer off stage. “This place had a good rating and didn’t seem too sleazy.”

It had been Lily’s suggestion to take their friend, Belle, to a strip club for her _last night of freedom_ , as she’d put it, even though the wedding was still a week away. However, neither she nor Tink had offered any assistance in the _actual_ planning. Emma was just grateful that the place, despite the brand of entertainment it provided, wasn’t some seedy, back alley den of questionable vice. The bar and stage area were clean with high end finishes, and the talent so far had been quite… aesthetically pleasing, even if none of the manscaped and oiled down exhibitionists had really been her type. While Belle had been peeking through splayed fingers in utter mortification, and Lily and Tink had been wantonly leering while slipping their numbers along with crisp twenties into each of the men’s g-strings, Emma had experienced little more than second hand embarrassment at the evenings offerings; the rum was pretty good though.

“Ladies!” the announcer called out, ready to bring out the final act of the evening. “The _Jewels_ of the Realm is proud to present the devilishly handsome scoundrel of the seven seas, a fiend set on _pillaging_ and _plundering,_ put your hands and dollars together for some pirate booty, and welcome… The Captain!”

Screams of delight filled the room as a leather clad man suddenly appeared on stage, with the theme to _Pirates of the Caribbean_ thumping through the speakers. Emma’s jaw dropped when he turned to face the crowd. _Holy hell and hot damn!_ Even with several layers of leather ready to be peeled and ripped off his frame, he was by far and away the sexiest man they’d seen all night, and quite possibly the sexiest man Emma had seen _ever_.

He was tall and lean. Nicely toned, but not overly bulked up like so many of the others. His inky black disheveled hair and cocky smirk added to the devil-may-care impression his kohl rimmed eyes gave whenever he took a moment to catch a lady’s eye and throw her a wink. Emma was mesmerized by those eyes. A vivid blue that, when not focused on playing up his persona to the crowd, held a fierce concentration that Emma recognized.

After a dizzying spin across stage that sent his long leather coat swirling around him, he slid it from his shoulders revealing more of the embroidered, bright red vest beneath. He deftly flicked each button of the waistcoat open in time with the music as his hips rolled, stretching the leather material over his various _treasures_ accentuated by the movement. A gossamer thin, billowing black shirt was already halfway undone, revealing a large expanse of toned chest and luscious chest hair that sent tingles into Emma’s fingertips. She bit her lip and groaned at the prospect of running her hands over those hard planes, tracing the line of masculine thatch down his now exposed abdomen to the place it disappeared just below the laces of his leather pants.

He made a show of loosening the laces, thrusting his hips in a dirty rhythm before turning his back to the crowd and ripping the pants away from his legs. _Oh the wonders and ingenuity of tear away clothing_ , Emma mused as the women around her collectively lost their shit at the sight of the jolly roger insignia on the ass of his very tight leather briefs. Not that she was at all immune to the sight herself, or the sight of his _very jolly roger_ proudly encased in the front of said briefs when he turned back around again.

_Has the AC stopped working?_

Emma refrained from actually fanning herself and kept her eyes glued to the man who finished his routine, impossibly stripping one last layer away from his frame before seductively making his way around the perimeter of the stage and the jutting catwalk that led out to the masses, to collect his tips. A completely ridiculous flare of jealousy sparked within her at the sight of women tucking bills into his skimpy g-string, each trying to not so discreetly flout the no touching rule. That smoldering proprietorial coal prompted her to pull a large denomination from her wallet and stand at the edge of the stage, holding out her offering as he approached. At the last moment she placed the bill between her teeth and shook her golden curls in his direction, drawing his attention.

When she caught his eye, his brow arched and the tight smile he’d been offering to the other patrons broadened, reflecting genuineness in his crystal blue eyes. He slowly sank down to one knee in front of her and leaned forward. Emma’s breath caught as his mouth drew nearer, his eyes never wavering from hers. Taking the bill between his own teeth, his lips nearly ghosted against hers and he paused for a scant second, allowing the heat of his gaze to wash over her before pulling the money from her bite.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured against the hundred in a dark accented tone of pure sin, and Emma was fairly certain her mouth was hanging open.

Eyes still locked onto hers, he stood and took the money from his mouth, sliding it down the expanse of his body and tucking it into the very front of the material barely covering his sizable… _roger_. Emma’s appreciative gaze followed the tip she’d given him as it skimmed across each glorious inch of his body, wishing she’d been allowed to do that with her mouth, sans bill. Once the money was safely secured, her eyes flicked back up to his and she flushed with a sense of feminine pride at the way his eyes were now roaming over her, devouring her every bit as much as the hungry eyes within the club were feasting upon him. Desire flooded her body and settled between her legs, drenching her panties and causing her breath to become slightly labored, which was clearly evident in the heaving of her breasts, where his gaze now lingered.

“Let’s hear it for The Captain!” the announcer bellowed. The statement shattered the hot and heavy moment between them and the tight smile of performance once again affixed itself on his gorgeous face as he gave a final wave to the crowd and swaggered off the stage. Emma was about to take her seat to rejoin her friends when he caught her eye, offering her a wink before disappearing behind the curtain.

~/~

Emma pulled open the heavy door and reluctantly headed towards her father’s office. The deafening cacophony of the steel plant sounded around her with the occasional _morning, Miss Nolan_ sent her way. She nodded politely at each greeting without giving much thought or attention to her surroundings. Her mind was preoccupied, as it had been for the past two days. Ever since Belle’s bachelorette party. Ever since _The Captain._

_Their foursome had stumbled out of the Jewels of the Realm strip club not long after The Captain had made his way off stage, and it had been Tink’s bright idea to go around back to see if they could catch a glimpse of any of the dancers as they exited out the back door. Passing around the champagne bottle they’d sweet talked the manager into letting them leave with, they waited for male dancers to emerge. Each time the door swung open Emma’s heart would palpitate in her chest in hopeful anticipation that it would be her Captain. Words rehearsed themselves in her mind of what she would say to him when he finally exited the building. Words that would start as flirtatious pleasantries then hopefully lead to activities where words would no longer be necessary. She had a better idea to occupy mouths with besides talking, after all._

_Cat calls and invitations to come congratulate the bride rang out every time the heavy back door slammed open. Several of the dancers actually came over to the fence that separated the parking lot from the back of the building to chat, flirt, and offer congratulations to Belle. Tink and Lily were their usual shameless selves while Belle responded to all the attention with the grace and well-bred manners Emma had always associated with her._

_After about half an hour of waiting, he finally made his appearance. Once again decked out in leather, he carried a motorcycle helmet in one hand and slung a small duffle bag across his body with the other. His tight jeans hugged his ass even better than the pirate leathers had, and his leather motorcycle jacket was every bit as alluring as the great coat he’d spun around in on stage._

_“Hey, Captain!” Tink called out flirtatiously, slurring a bit in her drunken state. “Come drop your anchor over here, won’t you?”_

_“Tink, stop it,” Emma hissed. He was her conquest not the flighty pixie of a woman who’d already been swapping spit with one of the other men through the chain link._

_The woman didn’t seem to be at all put off by Emma’s sharp tone, and shouted again at the man now making his way to a motorcycle parked in the employee’s lot. Her invitation to join them fell on deaf ears, his helmet had already been placed over his head and his bike roared to life under the heel of his boot, the aggressive reverberations of the engine vibrated through her as he pulled out of the lot and onto the open road. Those vibrations had become an aching throb she’d had to relieve on her own later, and again the next day, with only an image of him in her mind to assist her rather than the man’s own hands or mouth as she’d originally, (and still) desired_.

Emma shook the reminder of her late night alleviations from her mind. She didn’t need to be thinking about this, about him, when she was about to meet her father for lunch. It seemed the universe had other ideas, though.

Her foot had just landed on the first step leading up to her father’s office when the door swung open. Emerging was none other than The Captain himself, dressed in coveralls and pulling a heavy pair of welders glove from his back pocket.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Nolan,” his accented tone offered politely as he extended his hand to shake her father’s.

“Anytime, Jones. I’ll see what I can do about your hours and get back to you as soon as I can.” Her father gave the man a friendly slap to the back and they both turned, stopping short - for two entirely different reasons - when they became aware of her presence.

“Hey there, princess,” her father greeted, making his way down the steps to pull her in for a hug. As his hand came up to cradle the back of her head as it always did, her eyes met the widened stare of the man still frozen at the top of the stairs. Recognition shone in their blue depths, and Emma was certain he remembered her from the other night at the club. “Emma, honey, I’d like you to meet one of our new welders, Killian Jones. Jones, this is my daughter, Emma.”

He took composed and purposeful steps down the stairs, stopping on the last tread which had him towering over her. The position was a little too reminiscent of the last time he’d stood before her, and her cheeks flamed at the memory of him tucking away the crisp hundred dollar bill she’d tipped him into his g-string.

“A pleasure, Miss Nolan,” he murmured softly, sending an intense current down her spine. A current that ignited, erupting along her skin when she placed her hand in his. The rough calluses along his palm made the hair on her arm stand on end, and the seductively stormy look in his eyes had her breath catching over her response.

“Um… yeah. Likewise.”

“Well, Jones,” her father’s voice cut in, “You’ll have to excuse us. Emma and I have a lunch date. Ready, princess?”

“Of course,” Jones acquiesced before she could reply. Dropping her hand he moved past them and started to turn back toward the factory floor. “Don’t let me keep you. Enjoy your lunch.”

His feet moved quickly, his hand threading its way through his hair as he seemed eager to put as much distance between them as possible. The cold dousing of rejection washed over her, but before it could soak through to her core she saw him glance back over his shoulder at her. His heated look wrapped around her and left her feeling flushed as she allowed her father to escort her out of the factory.

Her thoughts remained on Killian Jones all through their meal and the remaining afternoon; a plan hatching in her mind that had her back at the Jewels of the Realm later that evening.

Decked out in her own black leather jacket and red crop top, Emma did her best to blend in with the wanton crowd that had embraced the theme for the evening. The club’s website had advertised an 80’s themed night, and with little time to put together an appropriate outfit Emma had done her best with what she had on hand. Fortunately, it had been good enough to allow her entrance (and the twenty she’d slipped the bouncer hadn’t hurt), out of the very long line of hopeful patrons.

Not surprisingly, there were a number of vacant seats towards the back of the club. Emma settled herself into one close to the bar and ordered herself a drink. Cheesy routines performed to even cheesier music danced and gyrated across the stage as the evening wore on. Once again _The Captain_ had been saved for last, and just like the previous time Emma had been there, the crowd roared at his announcement and damn near exploded at his appearance on stage.

Rum almost shot out Emma’s nose.

Def Leppard pumped through the speakers as he strutted across the stage and down the catwalk. Outfitted in Chippendales’ attire, complete with the bow tie, cuffs, and distinct lack of shirt, he once again captivated her with the control he honed over the movements of his body every bit as much as the flesh he had on display. One by one the elements of his costume were stripped away until he was left with mesh briefs that left little to the imagination. Emma chewed her lip and shifted in her seat, the hot flood of desire streamed through her veins and rolled in her belly.

A chair appeared center stage as if by magic, and it wasn’t until he seated himself on it that Emma noticed the pull lever dangling above him. She gasped in anticipation, knowing what was about to come, recognizing the set-up of the iconic scene from one of her favorite 80’s movies. When the music gave a dramatic pause he yanked down on the chain and posed himself so the cascading water would hit his chest with a glorious splash. Shrieks sounded from the crowd, and a wide grin broke over his face as he whipped his head side to side attempting to unplaster his bangs from his forehead.

Droplets glistened off his chest hair under the stage lights while streams of clinging water sluiced down his body. He continued to entice and enthrall the crowd with the roll of his hips and dizzying spins that sent water flinging into the crowd. Sweeping his hands through his drenched hair, he gave a final smug but seductive smirk to the crowd as he then ran his hands down his body and toyed with the band of his briefs. Chants of _Take. It. Off._ echoed through the club, but he simply wagged his finger at them all as he shook his head. His teasing brow and smoldering stare was the final offering he gave before exiting the stage.

Well, not the _final_ offering. His toned ass in those scandalous mesh briefs offered quite the consolation to his rejection of the crowd’s desire to see him strip down to nothing.

Emma finished her rum with a shakey grip on her glass. The adrenaline of arousal had set a tremor over her entire body, adding to the pleasant buzz already humming through her from the alcohol she’d consumed. After a quick pit stop to the bathroom to check her hair and makeup, she exited the club and made her way to the back fence that separated the employee lot from customer parking lot. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait as long for him tonight as she had previously.

He emerged from the building with that same purpose in his gait, motorcycle helmet in one hand and duffle bag in the other. “Hey, Captain,” she called out from behind the chain link fence, but he gave no indication of hearing her. “Jones!” she called out louder, and that made him stop short.

Turning, he smothered his look of surprise and sauntered towards the fence. “What are you doing here, Princess?”

“Princess?” Emma’s brows raised haughtily, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Aye. It’s what the guys at the factory call you.”

“Of course they do.” Emma rolled her eyes then flirtatiously settled them back on him.

“Seriously, though.” He stared her down with a wary, but curious look. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see if you’d like to go have a drink with me.” She twirled a section of her hair around her finger and looked up at him through her lashes as she extended the invitation. His response wasn’t exactly what she’d hoped for, though.

“Why?”

“Why not?” she countered coyly.

“Well, it’s late, for one.” He readjusted the strap of his bag draped across his body, and took a step closer to the fence, curling his fingers through chain link as he braced a hand against it. “I have a long shift at the factory tomorrow, and although my boss is a fair man, he can be something of a hard ass.”

Emma scoffed and broke her gaze to look down at her shuffling feet as she mumbled. “Tell me about it.”

Flicking her eyes to his once more, she licked her lips, internally celebrating that his eyes had followed the motion, then posed, “I assume he isn’t too much of a hard ass to deny you a lunch break.”

Killian’s brows furrowed. “Aye. I get a lunch break.”

“Great,” she beamed triumphantly. “Then meet me at Ocean Park tomorrow and I’ll bring you a picnic lunch.”

His confused expression only deepened as he clarified, “You want to have a picnic lunch… with me?”

“Mmhmm, and I won’t take no for an answer.” She tossed her curls over her shoulder and gave him a stern, if not somewhat pouty expression. “So, are you going to tell me what time to expect you, or do I have to break into my dad’s computer for your schedule… and maybe have a peek at your personnel file.” She smirked with an added wink, which earned her a chuckle.

“Eleven thirty,” Killian offered in surrender. “My lunch break is at eleven thirty. I get an hour.”

“Then I will see you a little after eleven thirty tomorrow. Good night… _Captain_.” With that she spun around and headed towards her car, maybe with a little extra sway in her hips as she walked.

“Good night, Princess,” she heard him call after her, causing her to draw her bottom lip between her teeth at the caress it sent down her body.

~/~

“So, how did you get into dancing?” Killian’s hand froze with his sandwich hovering at his mouth, a slightly astonished look sparkling in his forget-me-not eyes. “I mean classically,” Emma amended, realizing he probably thought she meant exotically. “I can tell you’ve had some classical training. I recognize the technique.”

“My mother,” he replied before taking a bite, using the time it took to chew and swallow his food to craft his answer before continuing. “She was a dance instructor in our village back in England. When I was little, I often accompanied her when she taught a class, usually following along in the back of the room in order to pass the time. Eventually, I became an official student.”

His soft smile and crinkled eyes as he spoke fondly of his mother warmed Emma’s insides in an entirely different way than she was used to with him. The nostalgia flickered behind his eyes and cast a boyish quality over his entire demeanor. It was quite a contrast to the man who had arrived at their lunch date on the back of a motorcycle with dirt and sweat still clinging to him from a hard morning’s work at a welding machine. Not that she minded. Emma found it to be a good look on him. Especially when he’d unzipped the front of his coveralls down to the waste, revealing the dark gray tank top underneath, before pulling his arms out of the sleeves and tying them around his middle in an effort to make himself more comfortable. Though, it had taken Emma several moments to stop staring at his toned arms and the teasing wisps of chest hair peeking out from the top of his tank.

“I can see why,” Emma responded after finishing her own bite of food. “You’ve got great technique.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Killian quipped flirtatiously, though Emma could hear the self-deprecating tone buried beneath his words.

“I’m serious. You’re very talented. Why didn’t you pursue it professionally?”

“You don’t think exotic dancing a worthy enough profession for the craft?”

Emma blanched at his defensive tone. “That isn’t what I meant at all.”

“No?” he challenged with an expression that tried to reflect an unaffected air that his clenched jaw betrayed. “Is that not why we’re having lunch in a secluded park instead of one of the many restaurants in the area? Because you don’t want to be seen with a _stripper_? You don’t want to be caught slumming?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest, her temper leaving crescent shapes in her biceps where her fingernails dug in. “No, _actually_ ,” she snapped back. “I asked you to have lunch with me here because it’s a beautiful, peaceful, _quiet_ location that I thought you’d appreciate after being in a deafening factory all morning. And yes, it is private, but that isn’t for _my_ benefit, it’s for _yours_.”

“Mine?” he scoffed.

“Yes,” she seethed. “Yours. You think I don’t know the amount of hell the other guys at the factory will give you when they find out you’re having lunch with the boss’ daughter? Not to mention my father. If we’d gone to one of the _many restaurants in the area_ , yeah, we would have been seen. By people _you_ work with at the factory, not people who know you as _The Captain_. And while I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks, I wasn’t sure _you’d_ be comfortable with that kind of attention.”

Killian’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide with stunned chagrin. “I’m sorry, I just assumed-”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about assuming, don’t you?” Emma began packing (slamming) the lunch items she’d brought back into the basket, tears she refused to give leeway to burned in her eyes.

“Emma, wait.” Killian caught her hand in his and she snapped her watery eyes up at him, blinking away their treachery. “I’m sorry, love. I just… You’re right, I am an ass. Can we just… Do you think we could start again? Please?”

The caress of Killian’s thumb over her knuckles, along with the sincere pleading of his brilliant blue eyes, evaporated her remaining anger. Casting off the _pall_ (his word) his actions had caused, they spent the rest of his lunch hour in far more pleasant conversation. He shared with her that after his mother had passed from cancer he’d had to stop dancing. Following in his older brother’s footsteps, he’d joined the navy where he was taught how to weld. Though he loved the sea, he wasn’t really cut out for military life like his brother was, so once his commission was up he’d elected not to renew, choosing instead to start a new adventure here in the states. Unfortunately, it had taken more time (and money) than he’d thought it would to get settled. His job at the factory was still on probationary status, and until he could get hired on full time with benefits he had to resort to dancing to make ends meet. He had dreams of buying a boat and seeing the world on his own terms, and was willing to do whatever it took to make that dream a reality.

Emma told him that she’d been dancing since she could walk, that’s how she knew he’d been trained. It was easy to open up to him in ways she didn’t usually with anyone else, and she found herself sharing things she hadn’t even confessed to some of her closest friends. Like how her parents never let her take risks. They’d both had a rough start in life, working hard for everything they had. They’d made sure Emma hadn’t wanted for anything, but that also caused them to shelter her. Their overprotectiveness had led to Emma living a secret life behind their backs; one that had included daredevil, law skirting behavior in her youth, and ambition to pursue a career in law enforcement now that she was older and more mature. She hated lying to her parents, who thought she was in college studying creative arts, when really her major was criminal justice. But she’d also be lying if she said part of her worry in coming clean wasn’t about them pulling their financial support for tuition. Not that it would stop her. In many ways she understood Killian’s decision to work at The Realm in order to supplement his income. She wasn’t sure there was much this side of legal she wouldn’t be willing to do in order to achieve her goals.

They were both disappointed when the time came for him to head back to work. After helping her pack the leftovers back into the basket he carried it and the blanket they’d lounged on to her car for her.

“I, uh… I’m afraid I don’t have many evenings free in order to invite you out for dinner, but perhaps we could have lunch again?” He reached up to scratch adorably behind his ear, the swagger he utilized as armor having fallen away during the course of their time together.

“I’d like that,” she answered softly, her heart beating in a rhythmic frenzy as she suggested they meet again the next day.

Her breath caught when he lifted her hand towards his lips, brushing them against her knuckles while his eyes held her fixed in their heated gaze. “Until tomorrow then, Princess.”

~/~

Emma took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down the front of her bridesmaid dress before picking up her bouquet and joining Lily and Tink to escort the bride to the ceremony. Belle looked absolutely divine, and Emma was thrilled over her friend’s happiness. But as Emma gracefully walked down the aisle in the precessional, she couldn’t help feel unsettled within herself when she caught the eyes of her date seated next to her parents. She could feel his eyes on her all throughout the ceremony, making her shift uncomfortably with minute movements so as to not draw attention away from the bride. When the ceremony ended, Emma was ready for a strong double of whatever she could find at the bar, but that would have to wait until her Maid of Honor duties were complete.

The DJ announced the wedding party and Emma was escorted into the reception hall by the Best Man; a very pleasant fellow who had a penchant for archery, and the mischievous qualities of a good-hearted outlaw. The wedding party stood at the edge of the dance floor, ready to lead the cheers and applause for the newly wed couple. As was tradition, Emma danced with the Best Man after the bride and groom shared their first dance together, all the while avoiding the presence of her date who waited at the outskirts of the dance floor. Ready to make a beeline for the bar as soon as the song ended, Emma had to smother a groan when she saw her date approach from over the Best Man’s shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Emma plastered on her best agreeable smile, and thanked the Best Man for the dance. She grit her teeth when her date’s arm slid around her waist, settling a little too low to be altogether appropriate. Not for the first time that day, she cursed herself for the decision she’d made the day before when the opportunity to bring a different date had presented itself. Blocking out the pompous drivel her date was spewing, Emma thought back to that moment when she and Killian had shared another lunch.

_For the fifth straight day Emma met Killian for lunch at what had become their spot in Ocean Park. She loved the way the salty breeze from the shore ruffled his already tousled hair, spiking up in all directions from his welder’s mask. His eyes, which had become more and more unguarded with each passing day, sparkled a brilliant forget-me-not blue when the corners crinkled from an unburdened laugh. Today they shone even brighter as he shared his exciting news._

_“Princess?” he asked softly, using the pet name that had at first been used to ruffle her feathers, but now made a soothing, if not slightly anticipatory, warmth spread through her belly, up to her chest, and most times, between her thighs. “Would you have dinner with me?”_

_“Dinner?” Her brows shot up in surprise. “As in the meal one usually has in the evenings? When you’re usually otherwise occupied?”_

_“Well, it turns out I’m not otherwise occupied tomorrow night,” he replied with a saucy grin that matched the devilish gleam forming in his eyes. “So, I’m all yours, if you want me.”_

_A shiver of desire swept through her. He hadn’t so much as kissed her yet, but she had never wanted another man more in her entire life. The fullness of his previous statement hit her with a punch of disappointment, though._

_“Tomorrow?” she clarified forlornly, causing his dashing smile to waver._

_“Aye.” His face further fell as he read between the lines of her tone and expression. “You already have plans.”_

_“A wedding,” she quickly told him, not wanting him to think she’d blow him off for anything trivial. “The bride we were having the bachelorette party for the first time I saw you at the Realm. I’m the Maid of Honor.” Emma warred with herself. She already had a date of sorts. An old boyfriend with whom she had an agreement to continue to act as one another’s significant other at official functions, so their families would leave their love lives be. She’d much rather take Killian as her date, but that would mean leaving him for large periods of time while she saw to her Maid of Honor duties. Alone to fend for himself with her family, friends, and acquaintances as they circled like vultures to peck at the juicy gossip his presence would offer. “It’ll probably go late into the night, but maybe we could get together afterward?” she suggested, not wanting to pass up an opportunity to see him, and maybe progress things forward with their relationship. “I could stop by your place when I’m done.”_

_“Aye, love.” Heat built and simmered in his eyes at the prospect of what her alternate plan for their evening suggested. “I’d like that very much.”_

_With a chaste kiss to her cheek, and a promise to text her his address, they parted ways already knowing it would be the last time they’d see one another before she met him at his home._

_Or so they thought._

“Neal, I swear to god if you don’t move your hand there will be a contest to see whose fist you have to avoid first. Mine or my father’s.”

Her date laughed, taking her words as a joke, but thankfully moved his hand off her ass and onto her lower back. Emma kept a tight smile on her face as she and Neal circled the dance floor alongside her parents, but as soon as the song ended she stepped out of his embrace and muttered her need for a drink. She could feel Neal’s presence right behind her, calling out to her father and asking him if he wanted something from the bar. When her father responded that he’d join them, her teeth ground together.

Finally breaking through the crowd that was blocking her path to the bar, Emma stopped short when she laid eyes on the figure tending it. A look of devastating hurt swam in his eyes, but the hurt changed to thunder when his gaze shifted to Neal who’d caught up with her and draped a possessive arm over her shoulder.

“Jones,” her father said in surprise, extending his hand to shake his employee’s. “what are you doing here?”

“The caterer is a good friend of mine,” he explained in a tone of civility that didn’t quite match the tight set of his shoulders. “She needed another bartender at the last minute, and my evening was free,” his eyes flicked to Emma and a swell of guilt rolled through her, “so I agreed to step in and lend a hand. What can I get you?”

Her father ordered a drink for himself and Emma’s mother, then turned his attention to Emma and Neal. “Jones, you remember my daughter, Emma, don’t you? And this is her boyfriend, Neal Cassidy.”

“Of course,” Killian nodded as he busied himself in making his employer’s drinks without sparing her or her _date_ a second look. “A pleasure to see you again, Miss Nolan. What can I get for the two of you?”

Emma wanted to scream as Neal ordered their drinks. She tried to communicate with her eyes that this wasn’t what it looked like, but Killian wouldn’t meet them. After filling their orders he told the other person behind the bar that he was going to take his break, before stalking off through the Employees Only doors that led to the kitchen. Emma downed her wine then told Neal she needed to check on a few things for Belle, exiting the hall through the front doors. She made her way around the building where she found Killian slouched against the wall next to the kitchen exit.

“Killian!” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and turned away from her, heading back towards the kitchen doors without a backward glance. “Killian, wait!” She quickened her pace as fast as her tall heels would allow, catching his arm as he wrenched the heavy metal open. “Please, let me explain. It isn’t what you think. Neal and I-”

“Don’t worry yourself over it, Princess.” His tone was callous with a slight bite of venom underpinning the sadness and hurt. “You don’t owe me a thing. We’ve only known one another for a short time. It’s not as if I hold any real significance in your life.”

“Of course you do,” she argued, pulling on his arm until he finally turned toward her with a sigh and let the door slam shut.

“Fine,” he begrudgingly acquiesced. He removed his arm from her grip and folded them over his chest, leaning against the door with his foot propped against it as he met her gaze. “Say whatever it is you came to say.”

“Neal isn’t my boyfriend. He used to be, but it’s been over between us for months. We just go on pretending to still be together so our families will stay out of our love lives, but it isn’t real. We aren’t together anymore.”

“Really?” he replied dubiously. “Does he know that? Because his hand on your ass as he twirled you around the dance floor tells a different story.”

Emma momentarily closed her eyes in frustration. “I know. Neal’s always been a dick, it’s why we aren’t together anymore.” She fixed her gaze on Killian, begging him to see the sincerity of her words in her eyes. “I threatened to punch him if he didn’t stop, and I’d planned to tell him tonight that I was done pretending. All day long, and throughout the ceremony, I was wishing I’d asked you to come as my date, I just-”

“You were worried what your father would think.” Killian assumed with an understanding nod of his head.

“No.” She shook her head, but then considered her motives again. “Well, maybe. But not for the reason you think.”

“Oh? And what reason do I think that is?”

“That I’m somehow embarrassed or ashamed of you.” He tore his eyes from hers, and she saw the muscle in his jaw jump. She stepped closer and reached out to cup his face in her palm. “I’m not ashamed to be with you, Killian. I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position of publicly dating the boss’ daughter until you were ready. If you want, we’ll go back inside and I’ll tell my father, and Neal, and everyone else the truth.”

Killian’s gaze met hers, a swirling tempest of hope and uncertainty brewing in their blue depths. “And what truth would that be?”

Emma took another step towards him, her hand moving from his cheek to the wisps of hair at the back of his head. Her other hand ran up his chest, and she rose up on her toes as she assured him, “That you’re the man I want to be with. The man I want in my life.” He let out a relieved breath that puffed against her lips, and his hands settled on her hips, stabilizing her as she inched up on her toes a bit more. “I want _you_ , Killian Jones.”

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled his lips to hers while burying her other hand into his luscious hair. A soft moan vibrated in his chest, and his hands slid from her hips; one pressed her more firmly against his body while the other grasped the back of her neck. With firm but gentle pressure, Killian kneaded the muscles at the base of her skull, positioning her head to his liking as he devoured her with his kiss. Emma held on for dear life, her knees threatening to give out from the way his tongue and teeth toyed with her lips and tongue. Soft nips slowly became just the right side of painful, and Emma knew if he kept up this delightfully unyielding pressure her lips would be bruised by morning.

_But who the fuck cared._

Releasing his jacket collar, Emma brushed the side of his neck with her fingertips as she drew her hand to the open collar of his shirt. He flinched slightly and murmured something about cold hands against her lips when it found the bare skin beneath his collarbone. Another moan (god did she love that sound) echoed through his throat when her nails scratched through the soft hair that covered his chest. She’d been itching to do this since the first time she’d seen him at the club, and now that she could feel the firmness of his body pressed against hers she was reminded of the one part of him she hadn’t had the chance to see yet. And she was most eager to complete the picture, letting him know just how much through a roll of her hips against his… _roger_.

His hand wandered from the small of her back down to her ass, and it was Emma’s turn to make wanton sounds as his lips and teeth grazed her jaw line before paying special attention to the pulse point on her neck. He reciprocated her desires with a rough thrust of his own hips. Her panties were utterly ruined, just as she was sure her hair and make-up was, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. All she cared about was finding a way to leave the wedding early so she could have her wicked way with the man preparing to have his wicked way with her.

“What the hell!”

Before Emma could register Neal’s roar of indignation, she was roughly wrenched away from Killian and flung aside. She somehow managed to stay on her feet, wobbling dangerously on the thin heels of her shoes, and was about to lay into Neal when she saw him rear back his arm and punch Killian square in the jaw.

“Neal!”

The unexpected blow knocked Killian off balance, landing him on the floor of the alley. “How dare you put your fucking hands on my girl!” Neal shouted while looming over Killian.

“I am _not_ your girl, Neal!” Emma reminded him as she pulled him away from Killian.

“Well you’re sure as hell not _his,_ ” Neal hissed. “Or do you get some kind of perverse kick out of being a dirty whore to a fucking stripper.” Emma’s mouth fell open as Killian sprang off the cold ground.

_How did he find out?_

“You best watch what you say about Emma, mate,” Killian growled. Emma put her hand on his chest to halt his menacing advance toward Neal. “You can say what you like about me, but I’ll not allow you to talk that way about her.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before sticking your tongue down her throat.” Neal turned his venom from Killian back to Emma. “Do you have any idea what people are going to say when they find out you’re with a stripper?”

“I don’t care,” Emma shot back. “Being a stripper isn’t who Killian _is_ , it’s something he _does_. Not that it’s _any_ of your business. How did you even find out about it anyway?”

Neal gave a smug huff, a sneer toying at the corner of his mouth. “Tink and Lily,” he answered. “It’s all they’ve been talking about since they saw him tending bar.” Emma began making plans on the best way to hide her so called _friends’_ bodies. “They’re telling everyone who’ll listen about how they saw him perform at Belle’s bachelorette party… including your dad.” Emma’s heart leapt into her throat and she felt Killian go rigid behind her. “Tut, tut, Emma. What do you think David will say when he finds out?”

“Finds out about what?” Her father’s voice caused her stomach to drop. All three heads snapped to where the formidable looking man stood with his hands braced on his hips. “Jones,” her father addressed with a collected coolness. “You’re needed back inside. I suggest you get back to work.”

His tone left no room for argument. Killian nodded and glanced down at Emma before returning back inside. The defeated look in his eyes tore at Emma’s heart, his fears of not being good enough for her seemingly confirmed by her father’s cold dismissal.

“Emma. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

~/~

Knocking on the heavy wood door, Emma shifted her weight from one stilettoed heel to the other. The brisk evening breeze caused her to shiver in her sleeveless bridesmaid dress, she really should have remembered to grab her coat before rushing out of the reception.

After making her way back into the hall, she’d been informed by the caterer that Killian had left. It had been an excruciating passage of time until she could finally make her excuses and leave without offending the bride. She’d immediately headed to the address Killian had texted her the night before, determined to make things right… she just hoped he’d let her try.

She pounded on his door again and a moment later it swung open. Killian stood on the other side, shirtless, with low slung sweatpants adorning his hips and droplets from his freshly washed hair dripping down onto his shoulders and chest.

This man was so un-fucking-fair.

“Emma?” he greeted warily. “What are you doing here?”

“You said I could come over after the wedding,” she tried to keep her tone light and breezy, but it came out more shaky and unsure than she’d wanted.

“Aye, but I thought-”

“I told him everything,” she blurted out, and Killian’s eyes went wide before dropping down to his feet. “I told my father the truth about Neal, and you and me, and I told him the fight with Neal wasn’t your fault, and that you were just defending me, and-”

“It’s freezing out there, Princess,” he interrupted, looking up at her again and opening the door a bit wider before extending an invitation. “Would you still care to come in?”

Emma slipped past him, but he caught her arm before she could get much further past the threshold. Slamming the door closed behind them, he pulled her into his arms. She expected his kiss to be as fierce as the one they’d shared earlier. Instead, his lips were tender, his tongue less forceful and more pleading in its request to dance with hers. Emma sighed against him, her hands caressing the lines of his back while she sank into the pleasant feel of his mouth sliding over hers. When he pulled away, his thumb lightly brushed against her cheek then traced a delicate path over her lips before his hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Now she was shivering from something other than the night breeze.

“Why don’t you make yourself at home in the living room and I’ll go grab us some drinks.” He nodded to the room behind her, but didn’t immediately release her so she could comply with his request. Their eyes flickered over one another’s, a heaviness weighing in the atmosphere that had nothing to do with the ugliness Neal had caused. The air around them crackled with a spooling charge, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice. With a visibly heavy swallow, Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he stepped back, running a hand through his still damp hair as he traipsed towards the kitchen.

Emma’s legs were unexpectedly shaky as she made her way into his living room. A fire popped and crackled from the fireplace, and she moved to stand before it, allowing it to take away any chill that somehow still clung to her after Killian’s embrace. She couldn’t deny the thrill that went through her when he returned still shirtless, though his casual appearance did remind her of the somewhat uncomfortable dress she was still wearing.

“Do you, uh… do you mind if I change into something a little less… formal?” She waved a hand down her body before taking the proffered drink from his hand. Realizing that she didn’t have a change of clothes with her, Emma caught her lip between her teeth then posed the question, “I’d need to borrow something of yours, though. Is that okay?”

Killian’s eyes darkened slightly, their normal brilliant blue a more saturated hue, like the deepest fathoms of the ocean, in the flickering firelight. A naughty smile pulled at his lips, and his brows arched in an equally roguish fashion.

“Only if you’ll let me watch as you strip that enchanting dress off your body.” He licked his lips while his eyes roamed down her form before making their way back up her body to meet hers, his head cocking to the side as he continued, “I do believe I might be entitled to a performance, seeing as how I’ve given you two.”

“Me, and several dozen other women,” she reminded him, taking a sip of her drink and lifting a brow at him.

“I only had eyes for you though, love.”

“You didn’t even know I was there the second time.”

“Details,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. Taking a swaggering step forward, his eyes alight and swirling with hopeful expectation, his teeth digging into the flesh of his lip while his brows did some sort of somersault across his forehead, he held her gaze with steady intent and inquired, “So? What do you say, Princess?” His hands skimmed up her arms, leaving gooseflesh in their wake, and his voice practically dropped a full octave. “Will you dance for me?”

A tantalizing swirl of anticipation and apprehension spiraled through her belly at his request. Her skin flushed from the heat of the fire and the intensity in Killian’s eyes. How could she refuse those eyes?

“I’ve never, uh… I’ve never danced quite like that before.” She took a steadying breath, and her resolve helped to calm her nerves, allowing her to look up at him with a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes as she commented, “I might need some professional advice and instruction.” With her mind made up, a boldness overtook her and she stepped forward. Her fingers playfully walked up his chest, which hitched from his breath catching in the back of his throat. “Know anyone that might be able to help with that?”

“It just so happens,” he replied huskily, taking her drink from her other hand and setting it onto the table next to them, “I do.” He took her hand and led her away from the fire to the more open area of the room. “First, you’ll need music. It’s important to have the right song to help… set the mood.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have one in mind would, you?”

He reached up and twirled a section of hair that had escaped from her elaborate updo around his finger. “I do.”

“Then you should probably cue it up and take a seat.”

“As you wish,” he grinned. He started to turn, then stopped. “You should take your hair down, Princess.”

She worked to remove the pins from her updo while he cued up a song for her. As the sultry sound began to fill the room, Emma shook out her curls. Pterodactyls began to take flight within her stomach as Killian settled himself in his leather club chair and indicated that she should turn around. With her back to him, she went about unzipping the dress.

“Slower,” he instructed. Emma glanced at him over her shoulder and took in his raised brow of challenge, testing to see if she would actually follow his commands.

She dragged the zipper slowly down her back while her hips swayed in time with the music, her face turned back toward the fire as each of the zipper’s teeth opened one by one. With a delicate brush of her fingers, she slipped one, then the other strap off her shoulders, making a show of shimmying the garment over her curves before letting it fall to the floor as the beat kicked in. She had a moment’s pause at the reality of standing in front of Killian Jones in no more than black lacy lingerie which made her feel a swell of uncertainty over what to do next.

“Don’t think, Emma,” Killian directed gently from behind her. “Just feel the music. It’s like any other routine. You just let the beat guide you, love.”

Emma took his words to heart and started to let the beat of the music steer her through a series of sensual moves.

“You’re a bloody goddess, love,” Killian praised after a series of body rolls that highlighted her _assets._ “But I do think your lingerie set, lovely as it is, might have been a bit much for a wedding.”

“I didn’t wear it for the wedding,” Emma informed him. As she’d done with her dress, the straps of her bra hung off her shoulders and she turned her back to him before undoing the hook and eye on the band. She slipped the black lace off and wrapped an arm across her chest to cover her breasts as she dangled the bra from her fingers. She turned and looked back at him over her shoulder before letting the garment slip from her hand. “I wore it for you.”

Crossing one foot over the other, Emma spun around to face him. Both arms were now wrapped around her body. Her hands covered her chest, pushing up her cleavage while she gave a small shake of her shoulders. Killian wet his lips. The rise and fall of his chest in combination with the tented front of his sweatpants, belied the cool and collected expression he was giving her.

His voice betrayed him, too.

“Play with your breasts,” he instructed with a strained tone of pleading. “I want to see those lovely nipples of yours harden under your touch.”

A shudder of fresh desire washed over her and pooled between her thighs. The pulsing beat of the bass metronomed in equal rhythm through her core, sending up a tingling rush that settled behind her nipples. Her fingers swirled and pinched the rosy flesh into firm peaks, her hips and torso continuing to undulate under the spell of the music. Once her breasts had been paid special attention, Emma skimmed her hands up into her hair before whipping her head around, sending her golden curls in a flight of chaos.

Strands of it fell in front of her face, but she made no effort to brush them back. Instead she peered through the curtain it made and fixed Killian with the gaze of a huntress on the prowl, she took graceful strides towards him with swaying hips until she stood between his knees. She’d joked with him once that he was one of _those_ sitters, knees spread unnecessarily wide whenever he took a seat somewhere, which had prompted a tawdry comment about the position being not altogether unnecessary. She could see the truth in that declaration even through the thick fabric of his pants.

Killian’s hands repeatedly clenched and flexed over the tops of his thighs. The temptation to slip a hand beneath the waistband of his bottoms and take himself in hand was evident, but he refrained. Emma wondered just how close to the brink she could bring him before he’d give in.

Slipping a foot out of her stiletto, she ran it up the outside of his leg before placing it at the top of his knee. It inched forward along the tops of his thigh, _accidentally_ dipping down his inner thigh where it grazed his erection before resting in the crook of his jerking hip. Eyes still fixed on him, she slid her hands down her body, over her breasts, along her stomach, and down to the buckles of her garter. The song faded to an end, but then restarted. Killian must have set it to repeat when he’d cued it up. The slow, sultry beginning paired perfectly with her motions as she began to roll her stockings down her thigh and calf. Brushing her foot back along the same path it had taken along his leg, she bent her knee back then reached to remove the balled up nylon before slipping her foot back into her shoe.

Then she set about to repeat the process on the other side.

Killian had moved his hands to grip the armrests of his chair. Groans and whimpers breaking free from his crumbling resolve as she teased him mercilessly. When she had the second stocking rolled to her ankle, Killian caught it in his grip as he steadied her with his other hand at her hip. Through the haze of his lust filled gaze, Emma saw a spark of retribution as he lifted her foot from his groin and raised it, meeting it halfway to take the end of the silky garment between his teeth, nipping at the end of her toes in the process. After he removed her stocking, she half expected him to throw her leg over his shoulder, instead he released her ankle and allowed her to return her foot to her other shoe.

They were both aware of the unspoken game they were now playing. His brows raised as if to say she’d have to do better than that, and Emma accepted the challenged by spinning around and settling herself over his lap with her back to his chest.

“Fuck!” he choked out when she ground down, rolling her hips over his hard length and pressing herself against his chest.

His hands skimmed around to the front of her body to cup her breasts, his thumb and forefinger rolling her nipples in time with her hips. She arched back and set her cheek next to his as she questioned, “I thought there were rules against touching?”

“My house, my rules,” he growled, massaging her breasts in his callused hands until her nipples became painfully hard and the aching between her thighs was almost unbearable. She turned her lips towards his, seeking out his kiss, but he pulled back with a wicked smirk.

“Ah, ah, Princess,” he tutted. “You’re not done yet.” One of his hands trailed down her body and toyed with her garter belt and the band of her underwear. “You still have articles of clothing that need to come off.” He placed both hands on the inside of her thighs and spread her legs further apart, skimming his fingertips along their expanse as she whimpered and groaned at his teasing touch. “Be a good girl and finish for me,” he rasped against her ear.

Emma slid off his lap, smirking in satisfaction at the frustrated hiss that left his lips when she rocked against his erection one last time. She moved a few paces away before hooking her thumbs into the sides of her remaining lingerie and began drawing them down her legs, bending at the waist to follow their path until they hit the floor and cleared her feet. She stood and turned, only to find Killian right behind her.

Hungrily, his gaze devoured her as his eyes raked over her body. When they made their way back up to hers she felt her skin ripple at the dark look swirling in his midnight stare. There was a beat of breathless anticipation before he reached out and grabbed her behind the neck, pulling her lips to his. The kiss was borderline savage. Aggressive and powerful, but with an undercurrent of something tender that made her melt into him.

She shivered at the feel of his hands caressing her skin. “Are you cold, love?”

“No,” she murmured against his lips. “I just love the feel of your hands.”

“Oh?” She could practically hear his smug smile as he trailed kisses along her jawline. “Why is that?”

“Because they’re rough,” she confessed breathlessly.

“Do you like it rough, Princess?”

His hot breath against her ear caused another shudder of desire to course through her. “Yes. Don’t be gentle… Captain.”

Without warning he spun her around and bent her over the side of his chair. Grasping her hair, he wrapped it around his hand and tugged just the right side of hard to bring her ear back up to his mouth. “As you wish,” he whispered wickedly.

Keeping a tight grip on her hair with one hand, Killian maneuvered his pants down his legs with the other, kicking them aside before pressing his knee between her legs and encouraging her feet farther apart. Emma could feel the hot velvet tip of his cock briefly tease her folds before it was replaced by his hand.

“Bloody hell, Princess,” he groaned along the back of her shoulder. “So wet for me.”

“Yes.” Her voice was slightly strangled from the taut pull at the front of her throat from her head being pulled back by her hair. Reaching behind her she found his member, hot and eager, and wrapped her hand around him. “Hot damn, Captain,” she moaned back at him. “So hard for me.”

“Aye.” He grabbed her wrist to halt the stroking motion of her hand. “You want it hard as well as rough, don’t you Princess.” He removed her hand then pressed her forward over the arm of the chair.

“God, yes.”

His length glided through her folds, coating itself with her arousal while his tip grazed over her clit several times before he lined himself up at her entrance. “Well, who am I to deny my princess.”

With one swift motion he buried himself inside her, giving her little time to adjust before pulling out only to drive back in a second and third time. Each thrust gained him greater purchase, until he bottomed out and went still. Emma’s body quivered with need. She bit back a frustrated remark, choosing instead to encourage him with the movement of her body. Her hips began to swivel, and Killian pulled her head back by her hair, bringing her ear close to his mouth again.

“God, how I love the way your body moves, Emma.”

He started snapping his hips, adjusting the angle of each thrust until she cried out when he hit the mark. Freeing her hair from his grip, his callused hand drifted around to the front of her neck and held firm to the underside of her chin. His fingers on the other hand dug into her hip as his movements became more forceful, the impact causing the chair to shift beneath them as it skidded against the floor. Her body was taking a pounding (and quite willingly), but just when she thought it was beginning to be too much, his demeanor changed.

The snap of his hips became less domineering and more languid. The drag of his sizable length along her inner walls more like a lover’s caress than a mindless fucking. His hand loosened its grip at her hip and wrapped around her waist. Killian pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head and whispered something into her hair before withdrawing.

“Wha… What are you doing?”

She hadn’t realized how much of her weight had been supported by the chair beneath her and the man behind her. She suddenly felt quite unstable in the stilettos she was still wearing.

“Treating you like the princess you are.” He spun her around then lifted her into his arms, her legs immediately wrapping around his waist, and her shoes falling from her feet as he kept a tight hold of her backside. “You deserve more than a quick fuck over the arm of my living room furniture, Emma.”

Killian carried her to his bedroom and deposited her gently in the middle of his bed, covering her with his body and pressing a less forceful, though no less assertive, kiss to her lips. This time when he entered her, she got to revel in each glorious inch of his unhurried member. Hard and rough had certainly been enjoyable, but there was something to be said for soft and leisurely. It gave her time to map the planes of his body with her hands, to discover how much he liked having his earlobe nibbled on, and learn what it felt like to be worshipped.

It felt like the promise of the greatest orgasm she’d ever had… and Killian Jones certainly made good on his promises.

The spooling charge of her impending release caused her legs to shake. Killian quickly adjusted their position, kneeling between her thighs and draping her legs over his shoulders. Eyes, hooded and glazed over from his own promise of bliss, he stared down at her with a look he had no business giving her after just a week’s time. But then, she had no business giving the look right back to him. Another shift of his hips had her arching off the bed, the charge building within her near the point of detonation with Killian’s finger quite literally on the button. His thumb coaxed her clit, and the rough snap of his hips returned bringing with it a planetarium worth of stars to fill her vision.

A grunt echoed from his chest. “Tell me you’re close, love. Oh gods, Emma. Tell me you’re close.”

She wasn’t close. She was there.

Her inner walls clenched and her legs, now sticking straight up, shook from the force of the orgasm rolling through her. White, hot, intense pleasure coursed through her, and she reached up to grab hold of the headboard, anchoring herself to it as she rode out the current that left her spent, once it ebbed. Her body relaxed, her legs limply falling over Killian’s shoulder as he continued to pound into her, but only for a few moments more before a guttural noise broke from his lips as he spilled himself inside her.

“That was…”

“A fabulous performance.”

Killian laughed and extricated himself, dropping down beside her and gathering her into his arms. They laid there for who knows how long. Emma knew she should get cleaned up. It was really late, and she wasn’t sure if she should-

“Stay,” Killian offered sleepily, his lids hanging heavy over his eyes.

Emma stayed.

~/~

An evil sound reverberated off Killian’s bedroom walls way too early the next morning. Emma groaned and buried her head under her pillow.

“Who the bloody fuck is calling me at-”

Killian’s cut off tirade caused Emma to unbury her head and look his way. His expression one of impending dread. “Killian? What’s wrong? Who is it?”

His eyes snapped up to hers, the phone in his hand still chirping a god awful noise. “It’s your father.” He swallowed heavily, his eyes dropping back down to the phone as he took a fortifying breath before answering. “Mr. Nolan?”

Emma sat up with the sheet pulled up to cover her bare form. Granted, he was on the other end of the line, but it still felt embarrassingly awkward to be naked in a man’s bed with any semblance of her father in the room. Worry churned in her gut as she watched Killian’s expression and listened to the few words he uttered in response to whatever her father was saying to him.

The night before, her father said he would need some time to digest everything she’d told him; about Killian’s second job, and the two of them starting a relationship together, about all the things she’d been keeping from him and her mother, but finally found the courage to come clean about. Emma chewed her lip in anxious anticipation and was about to jump out of her skin when the call finally ended.

“Please tell me he didn’t fire you.” He had absolutely no legitimate reason to do so, but Emma had immediately worried that her father might terminate Killian’s employment after what he’d learned. Not the revelation that Killian stripped on the side, her father wasn’t that closed minded, but he _was_ extremely overprotective and Emma feared he might fire Killian to keep them apart; not that it actually would.

“No. He didn’t fire me.” Killian was still staring at his phone. A look of disbelief, as if the device was under suspicion of lying to him, covered his face. “He called to inform me that starting Monday, I’ll no longer be on probationary status.” His eyes flicked up to hers, a smile crinkling at their corners. “He’s hiring me on full time. With benefits.”

“Killian! That’s wonderful!” Emma launched herself at him, tackling him to the bed where she peppered his face with kisses. “I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.”

“I owe it all to you, Princess.” He brushed strands of her hair out her face and over her shoulder, but they fell right back when she shook her head at him.

“No you don’t. You work hard, and you’re a skillful tradesman. _That’s_ why he made the decision. He’d have offered you the job regardless.”

“Aye, you may be right. But I plan on showing you my gratitude all the same.” His voice took on that husky tone that sent shivers up and down her spine.

“Oh? What did you have in mind, Captain?”

A bit of his flirtatiousness left him as he took on a more serious expression. “I’m not going to be _The Captain_ any longer. As soon as it becomes a more reasonable hour, I’m going to call the manager at The Realm and resign.” The roguish glint in his eye returned as he said, “No more stripping for the public. Private showing only.”

“Private shows only, huh? Just for me?”

“Aye, love.” Killian pulled her close and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. A squeal escaped her when he flipped them, landing her on her back with her hands restrained above her head by his. The Captain persona he’d worn on his features the first night she’d seen him stared down at her as he purred, “Welcome to the show, Princess.”

The End


End file.
